


Awake, Asleep

by Hgrade



Series: Shadowzone Reverbs [10]
Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Birth, Birthing, Egglaying kinda, Gen, Horrifically edgy fanfiction, Pain, Robot Furries From Outer Space, So much blood!, mentioned sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hgrade/pseuds/Hgrade
Summary: Well that wasn't supposed to happen.A "what if" for Dust and Must.





	

"You seem preoccupied." Aerobolt pauses beside the shark shaped minicon, looking out at the stars beyond their viewport and not at him.

"Yes, I am" he clinks his servos together. "I was just thinking."

The darkness in their ship seems to press in, "Worried?"

"Yeah." he says, lost.

"I am too my friend."

"We just keep running, and running."

"We'll reach our destination soon." but Aerobolt has said that for the last few months they've been fleeing. 

"I can't help but feel bad."

"I know, but soon we'll have peace."

"No, not that" he brows squint downward in worry and he looks away from the bird.

"What's causing you worry then?"

"I" he starts and takes a deep inhalation. "I feel awful about the ruin hunters. They weren't there for our best interests, but they were imprisoned because of us."

The bird has no reply but to shake his head, "I'm sure they'll be cleared of any charges, but it shouldn't be our concern if they've done something illegal. You should not feel guilty for them."

"Aero" the minicon nibbles his lip anxiously, "we were chased for existing."

 

What the minicon doesn't know can't hurt him. He doesn't know that the band of ruin hunters have been taken to the Iacon Primary Correctional Facility. The spacious prison cells allow the prisoners- of any size, shape, frame, or mode walk in one direction or backwards. A truly indulgent affair, no more space stasis pods for those plagued by illness or even carrying sparklets. 

Which finds Scatterspike inside one of these cells, pacing back and forth for the last few months. Despite all odds she's realized that the romp with the minicon had resulted in a few protoforms being started up within her fabrication center. The Decepticon pauses, belly swollen from the three separate pods nestled beneath the metallic mesh. "I can't believe you guys." she hisses, feeling one of the pods hum from within.

Each of her friends had been slapped with stasis cuffs and walked into the prison when they were first captured. Afterwards the ragtag gang were shoved into stasis pods and left to rust in a well-organized shelf space beneath the prison. Now the femme was afforded the slightly larger accommodations like most of the Autobot prisoners, and she was also given a sentence to carry the sparklets to term. A choice she wasn't eager to take, but it was better than being stored away for all eternity.

There were worse fates, like the bots who had their frames seized and melted down for newframes. Usually the sparks and personality cores of those individuals would be packed away and left for dead. She shakes her head at the terrible thought, and focuses on the cramp rolling over her belly and jostling the egg shaped things. It's been several megacycles since the contractions started and she has no choice but to walk forward, and then back ward. Maddening, but entirely survivable. There's no privacy either, the walls of her enclosure are made of an electrified field and nothing more. Everyone can hear her heavy venting, and when she finally sits on her haunches.

The orange and brown frame's venting gets deeper, louder and harder. A splatter of energon filled fluid- partially lubrication and a nutritious mix for the developing protomatter to flourish in. She grits her teeth and holds in the first scream. Her carrying chamber's entrance dilated in full, but the oval pods have to be pushed out with great effort. Scatterspike's eyes water and her claws scrape against the metallic floor, searching for purchase where none can be found. The first one edges out, searing the delicate lining of the entrance and then sliding down her channel with slow pressure. If it wasn't for the massive amount of pain she might of liked it, so she doesn't. It makes her think of everything they've done to her since she got here, and it only gets more horrible the more she thinks about it. The spikey 'con grunts when there's the dull, wet clunk and splash. 

Her tail curls as she examines the large pod but immediately hisses as the next one starts to drag down her fabrication chamber's walls. It's painful, it hurts. She bleeds and trembles until the second one slowly makes its way out of her body- faster than the first at least. There's steam rolling from her mouth from the overheating. Scatterspike has one more, and it finally crawls from her body after a megacycle. A late goer, she sits on her back and curls forward. Her interface module burns and she vents heavily. After a cycle it registers to her how small the protoforms are- undersized. Tank clenching because she knows they didn't give her enough nutrition, as much as they liked harassing her and tormenting her. There are oily tears in her optics and lubricant dribbling down her jaw. 

They had done so much to her. The roaming prisoners where fair game to pretty much any personal that wanted to come in and have a go at tormenting the vulnerable. 

Finally standing, and then hunching over she sniffs the pods and runs her claws over them, tapping into their programming and waking them up with a packet of Decepticon protocols. Frag the Autbots, they weren't getting a hold of her frames. A long click, a long cycle, and the seams on each glimmers with light. 

The pods open, one by one. The protoforms scan for life forms and they find one. Scatterspike, the closest and only scan able option. After registering her schematics they start to liquefy and glimmer, forming their frame around their small bodies. 

They open their optics, each a dull dark maroon. They're not all the same, but they're all minicons. Scatterspike sighs and sags from exhaustion. 

"W-where am I?"

"Who are you?"

Scatterspike shakes her head, "Yer in prison. It's alright, you're newsparks." the femme closes her eyes. They're all femmes as well, judging from their high pitched voices and the telltale eyelashes.

"But why can't we leave?"

"I'm so tired." 

She can barely tell them apart, "'cause, that wall's uh, electrified. Dun't worry. They'll come and let you out in a sec." and Scatterspike desperately hopes that's the truth. Their tiny purple emblems might keep them here though. The decepticon wants to stay awake, she fights against the exhaustion and energon dripping down her tail and thighs. With her processor spinning and her teeth clenched, the femme listens to the sound of the minicons trying out their alt forms. Her optics train as one slips into the unmistakable shape of something she doesn't want to think about.

Then comes the sound of pedes hitting the floor, and of some chatty minicon jailer. Her expression sours as she recognizes one of the regular Autobot visitors, a tall mech. A well-kept kind of frame, he smiles at the sight. "Well, well, well. Looks like we have a bunch of stowaways."


End file.
